


Like A Bird To You

by everywinter



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic Wonpil, Matchmaker Wonpil, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everywinter/pseuds/everywinter
Summary: Wonpil's the best Matchmaker in town. Most people don't see him more than once, but Jae keeps coming back again and again and again.





	Like A Bird To You

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this while listening to [Shrike by Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWLqdAJbu0A) on repeat? Maybe.

In Matchmaking, magic and instinct are one and the same. When a client comes into the shop, Wonpil has to imagine himself falling in love with them in order to figure out what kind of partner would suit them well. Sometimes, they have an idea of what they want, but the magic nudges Wonpil in a different direction, so he’ll smile and nod at the client, but he’ll trust his instincts every time. They walk into his shop, often sad, sometimes hopeless, and it’s Wonpil’s job to talk to them, encourage them, lift them up before sending them on their way again. A lot of his clients come back with their partners, to say thank you, and it makes Wonpil’s heart soar every time. He looks at the two of them together and can’t help but think, _“Yes, this is exactly the way that it should be.”_ He lives for that feeling. Since inheriting the shop from his grandmother, Wonpil has never failed a client. He’s had some who’ve had to come back, but never more than once.

 

One day, a tall man walks in, black hoodie pulled up over his head and shoulders hunched. He has a familiar look on his face, one that tells Wonpil that he doesn’t exactly believe in what Wonpil does but is desperate enough to come to him for help anyway.

 

He waits until the man walks up to the counter before introducing himself, hand outstretched. “Hello, my name’s Wonpil.”

 

“Jae.” His hands are bigger than Wonpil’s and softly callused.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, please, have a seat.” He gestures to one of the comfortable bar-stools that he’s set up in front of his counter. “Is this the first time you’ve been to see someone like me?”

 

Jae’s leg bounces up and down until he physically puts his hand on his thigh to still it. “Is it that obvious?”

 

Wonpil laughs. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, most of my clients are first timers and I’ve been doing this for a really long time.”

 

Jae’s tense smile eases a little bit. “Honestly, I don’t really know how this works, but my friend Matthew said that you helped him?”

 

“Oh, Matthew!” Wonpil claps his hands together in delight. “I actually watched the two of them meet, you know. I wrapped the flax around the handle of his umbrella and wasn’t even ten steps away from the store when Somin ran into him and knocked the two of them over. They just needed a little push. Barely a push, more like a tap.”

 

“Yeah,” Jae returns his smile and Wonpil feels a familiar warmth run through his body. “he said it was love at first sight.”

 

Their gaze lingers for a moment before Wonpil snaps back to his senses. “So, what’s a quality you look for in a partner? It doesn’t have to be anything especially deep, just the first thing that comes to mind.”

 

“I want to be with someone who knows how to make me laugh.”

 

 _Sounds easy enough._ Wonpil turns around and rummages through the potions he has on hand. “Do you have any allergies?”

 

“I’m lactose intolerant and I can’t have fruit. I’m also allergic to dogs.”

 

“Well, there goes my suggestion to just adopt a dog.” Wonpil says, mentally crossing off most of the potions he has in mind. Fruits tended to be in most of his pre-made potions. “Nothing makes me laugh the way dog videos do.”

 

“Amen to that.” Jae’s grinning at Wonpil when he turns back around. “Honestly, I pegged you more as a cat guy.”

 

“I am,” He admits, “I actually have a cat, but something about the way dogs are so unbearably earnest just gets me every time.”

 

Wonpil accesses Jae for a moment. “So, all the potions I have on hand have something or other that you’re allergic to. Would you mind waiting while I whipped something up, or would you like to come back in half an hour or so?”

 

Jae shrugs. “I don’t mind waiting, if you don’t mind the company.”

 

“Not at all.” He pulls the single serving caldron out from under the counter. “It might actually work better if you’re around to give it that personal touch.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jae watches in fascination as Wonpil pulls out several yellow roses from the wall of greenery that covers the entire left side of the shop. “I’ve never actually seen anyone work magic up close.”

 

“Well, I’m honored to be your first.” He says cheekily, carefully taking the thorns off the stems before peeling off the petals and dropping them into the caldron one by one. “My brand of magic isn’t all that impressive though. I have a friend who’s a clairvoyant and his spells get pretty flashy.”

 

“Better than not having the knack at all.” Jae counters, “Prophets run on my mother’s side and I think she was hoping I’d inherit it, but the closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a prophecy is the time I had a nightmare I’d gotten on the wrong bus before my first day of school and actually end up sleeping past my alarm and missing my first class.”

 

Wonpil giggles, then laughs even harder at the pout Jae sends his way. “At least it means more freedom to choose what you want to do with your life. What type of work do you do, since your prophet plans didn’t work out?”

 

“I’m a singer/songwriter.” Jae says.

 

“Oh, anything I’d recognize?” Wonpil looks at Jae for a moment before muddling some fennel and tossing it into the pot. “I hope you’re not offended I didn’t recognize you when you walked in.”

 

“Nah, I’m not. I try my best to keep some semblance of privacy in my life.” He sings a couple lines of something that Wonpil immediately recognizes. “I wouldn’t say I’m unknown, but I’m not so popular that I’d get mobbed buying a coffee.”

 

“Ah, I do know your music. I really loved the whimsical sound you gave your last album. You go by a pseudonym, right?” Wonpil pours a small bottle of sparkling wine into the cauldron and blows a slow, even breath over the surface until the liquid turns clear.

 

“Yeah, YPM.” Jae answers, still staring at the potion as Wonpil picks up a wooden spoon and gives slow clockwise stirs.

 

“I always wanted to know, what does that stand for?”

 

“It’s a secret.” Jae says.

 

Wonpil rolls his eyes and pours the potion into the big grey mug speckled with cream coloured dots; his favourite. The liquid comes out a pale gold and Wonpil blows away the blue steam that rises from the top. He carefully passes the full mug to Jae. “Don’t worry, it’s not hot. Drink the whole thing though.”

 

Jae looks at the fire still burning under the cauldron and takes the mug dubiously, the shock on his face obvious when his hands touch cold ceramic. Wonpil grins as he obediently raises the mug to his lips and drinks all of it without coming up for air, pulling away with a hiccup when the cup was drained dry. “Big baby,” Wonpil says, taking the mug back. “there’s no way it was that bad. None of my potions are.”

 

“I have no idea how, but I swear there was a salty aftertaste.” Jae says smacking his lips together. He pulls out his wallet and pays Wonpil his fee. “So, what now?”

 

“Now, I send you on your way.” Wonpil blows out the fire heating his cauldron and watches the smoke curl towards the ceiling. “My job’s done, it’s all up to you now. Just go about your daily life and you’ll know it when you find them, trust me.”

 

Jae nods and the two of them share another handshake before exchanging goodbyes. Wonpil watches as Jae leaves, pulling his hood over his head before he leaves the store, and rubs the tingling palm of his hand against his jeans.

 

Two months later, Jae walks back into the store while Wonpil’s trying to figure out why his primroses are blooming out of control. His hoodie’s been exchanged for a red sweatshirt, ball cap low over his face, and guitar slung over his shoulder. Wonpil’s honestly a little surprised. Of all the clients he’s had, Jae had been one of the most pleasant and the easiest to fall for. He was almost certain that his would have been an easy case.

 

“Hello,” He says, wiping the dirt on to his black apron. “I’m surprised to see you back again.”

 

“I’m not here with complaints,” Jae says, taking a seat at the counter again. “I did find someone who made me laugh, the next day in fact.”

 

“But?” Wonpil prompts.

 

“But he just wasn’t the one for me.” Jae says sheepishly. “He had this amazing, innocent, infectious joy to him, and I really liked him, but I think there was a lack of deeper understanding between the two of us. I didn’t feel like I could share my problems with him because I was worried it would keep him from being able to laugh the way that he did.”

 

Wonpil drums his fingers against his countertop thoughtfully. “So you’re looking for a sense of kinship and understanding?”

 

Jae nods. “Someone I can share my problems with.”

 

“I can do that.” He says, “Do you mind waiting again? This is a little more complicated, so it might take a little longer.”

 

“I’ve got time,” Jae says, “besides, I like watching you work. It isn’t every day you see actual magic.”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” He says with a smile. Magic’s uncommon, but it isn’t exactly rare. “How do you feel about baked goods?”

 

“I like anything I can put into my mouth.” Wonpil presses his lips together to supress a smile when Jae winces. “I probably could have phrased that better.”

 

“Who am I to argue with the award winning, singer/songwriter?” Wonpil says, pulling out his mixing bowl and a container of pre-made sugar cookie mix from his fridge.

 

“Did you look me up?” Jae asks, smile turning his eyes into crescents. “I’m flattered.”

 

“Don’t be, I Google everyone, I’m just naturally nosey.” Wonpil says, taking handfuls of purple and pink hydrangeas from his wall. “It comes with the job.”

 

“Speaking of which, how long have you been doing this for?”

 

Wonpil pauses from where he’s pulling the buds off the plant. People don’t generally ask about him, too wrapped up in their own feelings and it catches Wonpil off guard.

 

“Well,” He says slowly, resuming his work. “I inherited the shop from my grandmother when I turned 18, but I’ve been helping out since I was around 12.”

 

Jae seems to hesitate before asking his next question. “I hope I’m not getting too personal, but is that part of why you mentioned freedom coming with not having a magical knack?”

 

“No, not at all, I love my job.” Wonpil answers without hesitation. “I love being able to help people find romance and I get invited to so many weddings.” He sighs. “I love weddings.”

 

“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?”

 

Wonpil shakes his head and puts the hydrangeas into the dough, dumping it all out onto his floured countertop to knead out. “Not really. I have my friends, my cat, and I get to meet lots of different people this way.”

 

“Yeah, but they’re all people that you’re looking to pair up with someone else.” Jae points out as Wonpil tries to pull up the sleeves of his slipping shirt without touching them with his dirty hands. “Oh my god, just let me do it.”

 

Jae’s hands are a little cold as they gently undo the button on Wonpil’s cuffs and carefully roll them up past his elbows. Wonpil can feel goosebumps rise on his arms as Jae’s fingers brush against the hairs on his arm and desperately hopes that he doesn’t notice. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem.” Jae says, “I don’t understand why you wear button-ups when you’re your own boss. I’d wear nothing but hoodies, tees, sweatshirts, and joggers if I could get away with it.”

 

“I want to look professional.” Wonpil protests, watching in satisfaction as the dough slowly starts to turn sky blue. “People are hesitant enough about Matchmaking as it is, remember how you were when you first came in?”

 

“Fair enough.” Jae leans forward on the counter. “Back to the previous question though, what about you? Who match-makes the Matchmaker?”

 

Wonpil winces. “Don’t ever bastardize Watchmen in front of me again. I’m not worried. Love will find me, or it won’t. Maybe one day I’ll meet a woman standing in line to buy coffee and think ‘holy crap, this is it’, or I’ll be buying tea at the supermarket and bump into someone else’s cart and we’ll just really hit off.”

 

“So, you’d have to meet them outside of the shop?”

 

The dough’s turned a soft moonstone grey and Wonpil pulls out a cookie sheet and drops spoonfuls of rounded dough onto it, topping each of them with a honeysuckle. “There’s no hard and fast rule, but it feels like I’d be taking advantage if I were to pursue a client, you know?”

 

Jae nods slowly. “I guess it makes sense.”

 

Wonpil pops the tray into the oven and takes a seat across the counter from Jae. “They’ll be done in ten minutes, then you can take them home. You don’t have to eat them all at once, but nothing will happen until you have at least one of them.”

 

“Where did you learn all this stuff?” Jae asks, captivated. He keeps trying to peer over Wonpil’s shoulder at the oven.

 

He waves Jae over behind the counter and the two of them crouch in front of the oven door like schoolchildren. “It’s half what I learned from my grandmother and half instinct.” Wonpil turns to look at Jae. His expression is one full of wonder and the light from inside the oven gently illuminates his face and Wonpil thinks to himself that this is a good one. Whoever finds Jae will be incredibly happy.

 

Jae turns to Wonpil, he probably shouldn’t have been staring, and smiles a smile so wide he can’t help but smile back. “Wanna see some of my magic?”

 

Even though he’d said that he didn’t have a knack the first time they met, Wonpil thinks that there has to be something supernatural about the way Jae makes music. He always carries himself with ease and confidence, but when he’s holding his guitar, Jae seems to glow. Wonpil doesn’t know the song that Jae’s singing, but it feels familiar, and he can’t stop staring. He can’t stop looking at Jae’s eyes, his fingers, his neck, his mouth.

 

Wonpil’s startled out of his trance by the timer on the oven and rushes over to pull the cookies out, Jae continuing to strum his guitar while he works. He blows the black soot off of the top of the cookies to reveal soft cream coloured dough underneath. They shimmer in the sunlight as he puts them into a paper bag for Jae, leaving the top open so they can cool.

 

Jae goes to pull out his wallet, but Wonpil stops him. “On the house. I don’t feel right charging you when the first one didn’t work.”

 

“The first one worked, I’m just picky.” Jae insists, shoving the bills into the pocket of Wonpil’s apron. “You do good work. How are you gonna keep the place open if you just keep giving things away for free?”

 

He protests a little more, but Jae ignores him in favour of putting his guitar back into its gig bag. Wonpil passes Jae the bag of cookies as he walks him to the door. “Goodbye, Jae.”

 

“What, no ‘see you later’?”

 

“See you later then.” Wonpil smiles, but his face feels weirdly stiff. “Bring whoever with you. I’d love to meet them.”

 

Jae smiles back and waves goodbye before he crosses the street. The air smells heavily of tuberose.

 

“I really don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about it.” Wonpil says from Jinyoung’s couch as his best friend scrolls through his tablet from the other end of the sectional. “Has it really been so long since I’ve had a tough client?”

 

Jinyoung makes a noncommittal ‘hmm’ noise from his spot.

 

“I mean, I’m never going to see him again, but I can’t stop thinking about him. What if I screwed it up and he comes back?”

 

“More business for you.” Jinyoung says, tapping at his tablet with the pen.

 

Wonpil pops up with a frown. “You don’t understand, Jinyoungie, my reputation is at stake. I’m the best Matchmaker in town. Everyone knows you never have to come see me more than twice. Do you know how many weddings I’ve already been invited to this year?”

 

Jinyoung puts down his tablet with a sigh. “No, I don’t. How many weddings have you been invited to?”

 

“14!” Wonpil says, “That’s 14 happy couples who have decided to permanently commit their lives to each other.”

 

“Holy shit, that’s a lot of weddings.”

 

Wonpil flops back onto the couch. “I just don’t understand why my first potion didn’t work. There isn’t anything particularly wrong with him either. He’s tall, good looking, has a good job, and is very charming. Sure, he blinks a lot and his hair’s always a mess and that might be a little off-putting to some people, but I think it's quite cute!”

 

Jinyoung stares at him for a beat too long. “What?” Wonpil demands.

 

“Nothing.” Jinyoung says with a sigh as he pats Wonpil on the head. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out.”

 

Jae walks into the store a month later and Wonpil’s happy to see him, ready to make the usual pleasantries with Jae’s new partner when he realizes that he’s alone.

 

“What.” Wonpil feels a little bit like he’s going to throw up. He’s never had such a hard time with his job before and Jae… Jae’s a good guy. Wonpil's always been good at caring without being attached, but something about Jae... He has to deal with this before it slips out of his control.

 

There’s a sheepish sort of grin on his face. “So, I met this girl and she made me laugh and I felt like I could tell her just about anything, but then I realized ‘holy shit, she would perfect for my friend Eric’. Eric’s been single for longer than I have and we’re always bugging him about how he needs to get married already, so I introduced the two of them and they hit it off even better than we did.” His grin widens. “It’s just like you said, Wonpil! Meant to be!”

 

Wonpil can feel a tension headache creeping up on him. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and counts to 10. He takes a deep breath in and when he opens is eyes again, Jae’s still standing in front of his counter. His sheepish grin looks more worried now and Wonpil can’t really blame him. He probably looks crazed.

 

“Okay, it’s okay.” He says slowly, “They don’t call me the best Matchmaker in town for nothing; we’re breaking out the big guns, follow me.”

 

Wonpil leads Jae to his apartment above the shop, shooing Cindy away when the ragdoll cat comes to sniff at the new visitor. The clawfoot bathtub takes up the majority of his modestly sized bathroom and the ivy curling around the windowsill moves curiously towards Jae before Wonpil swats it away. He plugs the tub, turns on the tap, and dumps his entire bottle of honeysuckle extract into the warm water, swirling the water with his hand until it turns a deep purple. “Alright, get in the tub.”

 

“Uh,” Jae doesn’t move from where he’s still hovering by the doorway. “right now?”

 

“Well, no,” He says, all of a sudden a little embarrassed. “I’m gonna leave, you take your clothes off and get into the tub. The water’s dark enough that I won’t see anything, don’t worry.”

 

Jae gives Wonpil a look that he’d probably categorize as fond if he let himself overanalyze it. “Okay then.”

 

“Okay then.” They stand in an awkward silence until Jae clears his throat, raising an eyebrow meaningfully. “Oh! Right, sorry.”

 

As Wonpil rushes out of the bathroom and down the stairs, he swears he can hear Jae laughing from behind the wood door. He locks the door, flips the sign to closed, and pulls all of the orange and yellow lilies from off his wall. He pulls all the petals off, one by one, into the huge canvas bag he usually uses for library books and takes it all back upstairs along with a handful of nutmeg geraniums for good measure. By the time he makes it back up the stairs, Wonpil’s mostly calmed down again. This is his job. He’s good at his job and he’s going to do it well. This may be his trickiest client yet, but that just means the satisfaction of finding someone just right for Jae will be that much greater. Wonpil takes a deep breath and knocks on the bathroom door.

 

“Come in.” Jae’s clothes are hanging on one of the empty hooks on the back of Wonpil’s bathroom door and he has one arm thrown over the side of the tub, and his cellphone in the other. “I turned off the tap when the water started getting too high, I hope that’s okay.”

 

“Totally fine, thanks.” The water’s turned an inky royal purple. “I’m going to have to add more stuff to the water, so sorry if I touch your leg by mistake.”

 

Jae just shrugs, most of his attention still on his cellphone. “I’ll just scream if your hands move too far up.”

 

Wonpil nods, swallows hard, and dumps the contents of the canvas bag into water by Jae’s feet. The second the flowers hit the water, soft lilac bleeds into the inky purple and Wonpil smiles to himself, pleased with the results. He sticks his arm in deeper, careful not to touch Jae’s legs, and continues to stir the water. The almost overwhelming scent of honeysuckle in the air slowly disappears, replaced by the faint smell of lilacs.

 

“Wait,” Jae puts his phone onto the bathroom floor and sits up straighter in the tub. “your sleeve’s getting soaked.”

 

“Oh, I can just hold it up with my other hand, don’t worry about it.”

 

Jae doesn’t respond, but takes Wonpil’s soaked shirtsleeve and carefully rolls it back up past his elbow again. He does the same with Wonpil’s dry one before leaning back again and resuming whatever puzzle game he was playing on his phone. “You’ve really gotta start learning how to roll up your shirtsleeves properly, or start investing in short sleeves.”

 

Wonpil scoffs. “I have literally never seen you wear anything other than sweatpants and socks with slippers.”

 

Jae grins at him over the top of his phone. “I’m not the one invested in looking professional, I just want to be comfortable.”

 

“I’m comfortable too.” He insists, “You can be comfortable and not look like you woke up five minutes before you had to leave the house.”

 

“I work the disheveled look and you know it.” Wonpil doesn’t dignify his gloating with a response. Jae wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and pushes his sweaty bangs out of his face. “How long do I have to soak in here for?”

 

Wonpil pulls his hand out of the water, notes that his fingers are starting to get wrinkly, and Jae’s face has become flushed from the heat. He’s feeling overheated too. Maybe he should take Jae’s advice on the short sleeves. “You can get out now.”

 

He leaves Jae with a clean towel and all but runs back down the stairs. Wonpil washes his face in the sink downstairs and pushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He pulls a jar of candied violets down from one of the shelves and picks out all of the blue ones into a paper bag.

 

Jae comes back down the stairs dressed in a sleeveless tee, hoodie tucked under his arm. He still looks flushed and Wonpil feels a little bit guilty. He must have run the water too hot.

 

“Here.” He passes Jae the small bag. “It might be a little over-kill, but better safe than sorry. Guaranteed success this time.”

 

Jae peers into the bag, pulls out one of the flowers and pops it into his mouth. “Not bad.”

 

“Sorry you had to come back a third time.” Wonpil says, wringing his hands. “This has literally never happened to me before. I really hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Jae beams at Wonpil as they make their way to the door. “This is the closest I’ve been to anything good in years.”

 

He’s waving goodbye when Wonpil finds his breath catching in his throat. “Wait!”

 

Jae pauses and turns back, just about to cross the street.

 

Wonpil licks his lips, mouth dry. “You should put your hoodie back on. It’s chilly.”

 

Jae’s laugh rings through the street and he complies before waving goodbye again and walking away. Wonpil doesn't stare through the shop window and he definitely doesn't cry a little. He's got it all under control.

 

The next morning, Wonpil doesn’t feel quite like himself. He spends an extra 15 minutes in bed and drinks a bigger cup of coffee than usual, but it feels like there’s a weight on him that just won’t lift. There’s half a second where Wonpil considers not opening up the shop that day, but he quickly dismisses the idea. It won’t do him any good to mope around.

 

A teenage girl comes in to look around, but she’s more heartbroken than anything. Wonpil offers her a cup of tea and a listening ear before giving her a bouquet of scarlet geraniums and sending her on her way. There’s no magic in it, but she leaves with a little smile on her face and Wonpil feels a little better too.

 

As he washes the cups in the sink, Wonpil hears the bell over the door chime and calls, “I’ll be with you in a moment!”

 

A familiar voice says, “I don’t mind waiting.”

 

The heavy feeling rushes back into Wonpil’s chest and he almost drops the mug he’s holding. Of course, he had faith in his spell work, but he really hadn’t thought Jae would have found someone so soon. But like he’d always said; when you know, you just know. He's got this. Wonpil takes a fortifying breath, wipes his wet hands on his apron, and plasters a smile onto his face before he turns around.

 

Jae’s standing in jeans, the same black hoodie as the first time Wonpil saw him, and (as usual) socks and slippers. He’s also alone.

 

“Are you serious?” The fury in Wonpil’s voice even startles him a little. “It’s only been one day! You can’t just give up after one day! Did you eat all the violets I gave you? _It’s only been one day!_ ”

 

He honestly wants to throw his apron to the ground and throw an actual fit, but Wonpil just buries his face into his hands and takes a deep breath instead. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find another Matchmaker. I’ve done everything I can think of and I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”

 

Warm hands circle around Wonpil’s wrists and he looks up to see Jae standing behind the counter with him. “So, listen, I’ve got an idea.”

 

“Seriously?” Wonpil can’t help feeling a little offended that Jae’s trying to tell him how to do his job.

 

“Seriously.” Jae stares at him, and the next thing Wonpil knows, they’re kissing. Jae’s still holding his wrists, and Wonpil’s hip hurts a little from where he’s being pressed against the sink, but he never wants it to end. Jae pulls back first, keeps his face close enough that Wonpil can feel his breath against his lips. "Yellow Post-It Man."

 

Wonpil pulls back a little to look Jae in the eye. "What?"

 

"YPM, that's what it stands for, Yellow Post-It Man."

 

"Really?" Wonpil laughs so hard he buries his face into the shoulder of Jae's hoddie. He still smells like lilacs. "What does that even mean?"

 

"I don't know, I picked it when I was 14 and it just sort of stuck, okay!" Jae's laughing too, his shoulders shaking as he wraps his arms around Wonpil. He's wiping tears from his eyes by the time he's composed himself enough to look at Jae again.

 

“I guess all your spells worked.” Jae’s smiling wider than Wonpil has ever seen him smile before, and as always, Wonpil smiles back.

 

“I told you I was the best Matchmaker in town.”

 

“I don’t know who said that, but I’d like to have a word with them.” He interlocks their fingers and traces circles on the back of Wonpil’s hand with his thumb. “You were supposed to help me find my match, right? I feel like I’m the one who did all the work here. I’m the one who found you and I'm the one who kept coming back.”

 

“You’re incorrigible.”

 

“Don’t you mean irresistible?” Wonpil bites his lip to keep from laughing as Jae wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Don’t deny it, I saw you checking me out when I was in the bathtub.”

 

“Oh, like you’re much better?” He shoots back, “I know how to roll up my own sleeves!”

 

“No, you don’t.” Jae touches the edge of the left one and wipes the residual moisture onto Wonpil’s cheek, ignoring his indignant squawk of protest. “You’re a mess without me.”

 

“I guess you’d better stick around then.”

 

Jae lets out a dramatic sigh and smiles. “I guess I’d better.”

 

Wonpil smiles back. He leans up to kiss Jae again. The entire shop smells like jasmine and _“Oh,”_ he thinks to himself, _“this is exactly the way it should be.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be lighthearted and silly, but a combination of Hozier and Feelings turned it a little emotional.
> 
> Inspired by Fi and the [Cornerwitch comic](http://deskgirl.tumblr.com/post/114635417854/charminglyantiquated-a-short-comic-about).
> 
> I have no idea when Yellow Post-It Man came into existence. This is just what I'm going with.
> 
> I don’t know how many of these plants are actually edible. This isn’t meant to be accurate this is just gay fanfic okay. (For real though, hydrangeas for sure are poisonous, so...)
> 
> Flowers - Meanings  
> yellow roses - happiness  
> fennel - strength, worthy of praise  
> primrose - first love  
> hydrangeas (purple) - desire to deeply understand  
> hydrangeas (pink) - heartfelt emotion  
> tuberose - dangerous pleasures  
> lily (yellow) - gaiety  
> lily (orange) - passion  
> nutmeg geraniums - expected meeting  
> violets (blue) - love, faithfullness  
> scarlet geraniums - comforting  
> jasmine - attachment, I attach myself to you
> 
> Come say hi! [Twitter](https://twitter.com/everywinter1)/[Tumblr](https://everywinter.tumblr.com/)


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